


Two Steps Forward (One Step Back)

by sariane



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Gay Bar, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Outing, Period-Typical Homophobia, WWII era, oh boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1955808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night, while they're on leave in London, Steve goes out looking for Bucky. </p>
<p>What he finds is the last thing he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps Forward (One Step Back)

**Author's Note:**

> This was technically my first Steve/Bucky fic – I wrote it last July. It was really hard for me to write and finish, and I struggled with it a lot. But it wasn’t so much something I wanted to write as much as it’s something I needed to write. It might be the hardest fic I’ve ever written, it’s really personal to me, and I’m still not sure about it, but I’m glad I wrote it. 
> 
> I did a fair amount of historical research for this fic, but I’m not so sure how accurate it ended up.
> 
> Thanks to my beta, [bornunderabluemoonbaby](http://bornunderabluemoonbaby.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- Homophobia (internalized and period-typical)  
> \- Mentions of alcohol consumption and smoking  
> \- Outed character

“Have you seen Bucky?”

Peggy looked up from the file of papers in her lap and tucked her brown hair behind her ear. She met Steve’s eye and shook her head.

“No. Isn’t he supposed to be on leave?” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Aren’t _you_ supposed to be on leave?” Steve shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and looked around the busy room, where officials and agents were working, day in and day out, doing their part for the war effort.

“That’s why I was looking for Bucky,” he said. “Guess they ran out of things for me to do here.”

Peggy paused. “He’ll be in one of the pubs, I’d expect,” she said.

“Do you know which one?” Steve asked hopefully.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said. Before Steve could turn away, she asked, “Did the two of you have plans?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I just thought we could…” he trailed off. ‘Talk’ wasn’t the right word. Bucky wasn’t one for talking; neither was Steve, when it came down to it.

“I see,” Peggy nodded crisply. “Enjoy your night off.”

“Thanks,” Steve said finally. He turned away to let Peggy continue her work.

Disheartened, he continued into the underground hallway, wondering if Bucky was hanging around the base somewhere. It seemed unlikely.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Howard Stark said as he passed Steve in the hallway. “What are you still doing here on a night like this?” he asked. “Get stood up? You look like a kicked puppy.”

“Nope, just looking for Bucky,” Steve replied. “Haven’t seen him around tonight, have you?” he asked hopefully.

“Dugan took the boys down to the usual place. You should head down there instead,” Howard said offhandedly, eyes darting around as he spoke.

“Bucky’s not with them,” Steve said. “Do you know where _he_ is?” he continued, smelling a rat. He glared at Howard, who paled in the harsh underground lights.

“Look, kid,” Howard started, a shifty look on his face. “It’s none of my business—“

“Stark,” Steve snapped. “If you know where he is, tell me. Is something wrong? Is he in trouble?” Howard sighed, thenglanced around the hallway.

“I’ll tell you where to find him,” he said in an undertone. “But you might not like what you find, alright? Listen to me and leave well enough alone. That’s a whole can of worms you don’t—“

Steve gritted his teeth. “Just tell me where he is.”

*

By the time Steve stepped out onto the streets, the skies were heavy with dusk. London was dark, the sidewalks lit only by the waning moon, but Steve could see just well enough to make his way. He followed Howard’s vague directions past the shells of long abandoned buildings, crowded dance clubs, and tiny, hole-in-the-wall pubs.

Steve finally stopped underneath a street sign, where Howard’s directions had ended. He looked around the buildings for a pub sign; anything to give away that there was a bar. There was nothing, except a pair of dames smoking and talking in hushed tones as they leaned against a brick wall.

 “Excuse me, ladies,” Steve said as he approached. They stopped chatting and looked at him disinterestedly. “I’m looking for a bar somewhere on this street. Do you know where I can find it?”

The girls considered him for a moment, glancing at each other and Steve in turn.

“Just down that way,” one of them said, gesturing with a flick of her cigarette.

The other puffed on hers, blowing out a cloud of smoke that would’ve made Steve cough and choke not so long ago.

“Oh, honey, you’re not going dressed like _that_?” she said as she looked him up and down. Steve glanced down at his dress uniform. It was no different than what he always wore when he went drinking with the other men.

“Yes, ma’am, I am,” he said, his jaw set firmly. “I don’t see a problem with it. Do you?”

She didn’t respond. With one more puff of her cigarette, she tugged on the other dame’s arm and turned. They walked away together, melting into the shadows of the street.

Steve watched them for a moment before he turned to follow the girl’s directions; stopping to stand at the edge of the alleyway. The alley was black and pitched in shadow. There was no sign of a bar in sight. Steve wondered if she’d lied; he’d been beaten up in back alleys enough times to be wary

He sensed movement on the other end of the alleyway. At the sound of footsteps, Steve froze, instinctively stepping back around the corner. Boots – not a soldier’s, but civilian – walked hesitantly down the alleyway and stopped.

Steve chanced a look. He watched as a man stepped up to a plain wooden side door in the alleyway and knocked. The man pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and waited, staring intently at the door.

It opened.

As the man slipped through, Steve caught the soft sounds of conversation and piano music as they escaped into the alleyway with a sliver of warm light. As soon as the door shut, it was gone.

Steve hesitated at the mouth of the alleyway.

On an impulse, he walked into the alleyway and stopped in front of the door. He knocked, and then pulled his own handkerchief out, copying the man’s movement from memory.

After a moment, the door opened. Steve stepped inside.

The doorman took in an eyeful of Steve in his uniform as he shut the door. The man himself wasn’t wearing anything too flashy, just casual clothes and a good few days’ worth of beard growth.

“Good evening,” Steve said politely.

The man blinked. “Evenin’,” he said.

Steve squared his shoulders and turned away. He felt the man’s eyes on his back as he descended down the creaky, narrow stairs towards the sounds of the piano.

He stopped at the bottom of the basement and froze.

The bar wasn’t as crowded as Steve was used to, but it was filled with people – mostly dames – smoking and drinking in the shadowy basement. Smoke hung in the air like a fog, forming a halo around the head of a woman playing the piano in a warm spotlight. Her voice, husky and deep, guided the dancers like a dream on the makeshift dance floor.

Steve stopped and stared at the dancing couples. He’d never seen two men dance in public like that before, so close, so…intimate. There were dames, too, their foreheads pressed together as they smiled softly at each other; Steve’s mouth went dry with longing.

He’d obviously found the wrong place, he thought. He turned slowly to leave, but he caught something out of the corner of his eye, making him hesitate.

“Bucky?” he murmured, staring across the basement to a small table pushed against the wall.

Bucky was slumped over the table, head resting on a single hand. He picked idly at the label on the bottle of beer in front of him.

Before Steve even knew what he was doing, he had woven through people, tables, and chairs, and was standing on the other side of the table across from Bucky.

“Bucky?” he asked in disbelief.

Bucky looked up from his beer bottle and locked eyes with Steve. He balked, like he was about to push his chair back and jump to his feet. Steve watched as he made the decision to hold his ground.

"You shouldn't be here," Bucky muttered finally.

"If I shouldn't, _you_ shouldn't," Steve said. He pulled out the chair across from Bucky and sat down. Bucky shook his head in sulky resignation.

"Never did quit while you were ahead, did you?" Bucky sighed. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, you know me," Steve said, trying to break the tension. Bucky shot him a weak glare for his effort.

"Yeah. You're out of your mind, you know that?" he said. "Walking into a place like this…dressed like _that_." He gestured at Steve's uniform.

"Didn't know where I was going," Steve shrugged.

"Well," Bucky smiled bitterly, like this was all a part of some big joke, "bet you didn't expect this. Didn't think your old best friend was a…" the words died in Bucky's throat. Steve waited for more, but Bucky took a long swig of his beer.

"Why'd you never say anything?" Steve asked.

"What?" Bucky scoffed, "you think that was an option?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Bucky, I think–"

“I get it, okay?” Bucky cut him off. “I’m disgusting – unnatural – a freak. I get it,” he growled darkly. “Transfer me away from your little team. Hell, report me. Get me discharged. I’ll go willingly. I thought Howard could keep his trap shut, but I guess not.”

“You really think I’d do that to you?” Steve said sadly. “Bucky, you’re my best friend, nothing’s gonna change that.”

Bucky stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he said. He knocked back a swig of his beer. “I thought that _you_ , with your – your Sunday morning church services and righteousness –“

“I’m not righteous,” Steve protested.

“Oh, really?” Bucky laughed. “Forget it. I just – well, I thought you’d knock my teeth in if you knew.”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d do that,” Steve frowned, feeling a little hurt. “I’m not a bully.”

“Never thought you were,” Bucky said with a great sigh. “You don’t understand, Steve, it’s hard for guys like me. Gotta watch my back all the time. Can’t trust anyone.”

“I bet I understand more than you think,” Steve started. Bucky snorted.

"You've got no clue," he interrupted. "Get out of here, Steve." His eyes shone with his usual fierce determination. "You don't belong here."

Steve pushed his chair back harshly; it scraped against the floor of the bar. He turned and walked away, ignoring the eyes that followed him from bar patrons that were smart enough not to interfere but too nosy to mind their own business. Anger and anxiety burned inside his gut like an ember.

He made it to the stairs before he turned back and strode back to Bucky.

“Dance with me,” Steve said.

Bucky looked up in surprise. Steve waited for him to say something, anything, his heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed against the lump in his throat

“Don’t make fun,” Bucky said in a broken voice. “You don’t even know how.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to teach me,” Steve shrugged.

Bucky stood up slowly, his limbs weary. Steve waited for him to do something – punch him, maybe, or laugh at him, or walk away – until Bucky raised an eyebrow and said, “Alright.”

Steve led the way to the dance floor, taking a place at the edge. He pivoted to face Bucky.

“You gonna lead?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t I always?” Steve said, but the joke fell flat. He glanced at the other dancers, and then looked back at Bucky.

“Give me your hand,” Bucky sighed, finally. Steve threaded his fingers through Bucky’s. Bucky took Steve’s other hand by the wrist and set it on his shoulder. He lightly set his own hand on Steve’s waist, almost on his stomach, like he was afraid to touch. “And then you follow my lead,” Bucky said. “It’s easy.”

It was simpler than Steve thought, standing so close to Bucky and turning slowly in time with the music. The pianist was playing a sweet love song Steve had never heard before.

Steve didn’t speak, his heart beating in his throat with words he didn’t know how to say. He never knew his way around with this stuff – he could storm a HYDRA compound with complete confidence, but he couldn’t open his mouth and say something smart.

Compared to talking, though, dancing was easy. He followed Bucky’s lead like the other dancers, falling into step like it was nothing.

“Thought you didn’t know how to dance,” Bucky said, breaking the silence.

“I don’t,” Steve said. “But no one told me it was just walking and spinning.”

“Sure, until you trip over your big feet,” Bucky replied, looking sideways.

“I wouldn’t have to worry about that if someone could keep a rhythm,” Steve countered.

Bucky chuckled, letting a note of bitterness through. “I’m following your lead, remember? Just don’t step on my feet.”

“What? You don’t trust me?” Steve bit back a grin.

“No, I _know_ you,” Bucky shot back. They shared a smile before Bucky seemed to remember himself and looked down.

“Bucky,” Steve started, but he wasn’t sure what to say. Bucky looked up at him questioningly. “I think I understand more than you know,” Steve said in an undertone.

“And what’s that?” Bucky said, frowning.

“That sometimes,” Steve said slowly, “It’s easier to lash out at first than to risk getting hurt. It’s hard to lay yourself bare – to be vulnerable.” He watched as Bucky’s face clouded over. “But sometimes, it’s worth it.”

“Is it?” Bucky muttered. Louder, he said, “Is this your way of saying you forgive me for being an ass?”

“Guess so,” Steve shrugged.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t – shit,” he swore as Steve stepped on Bucky’s toes. He grunted in pain as Steve jumped backwards.

“Sorry,” Steve said quickly.

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky grunted. “You’re trying to lead. You wanna switch?”

“No, I’m still getting the hang of it,” Steve said. “Try again?” he said hopefully, stepping forward carefully.

This time, they fit together more smoothly, Bucky’s hand fitting into Steve’s while the other wandered to the small of his back, like the others dancing around him. Inches closer, Steve felt even taller than he already did when he was next to Bucky nowadays.

“How’d you find this place, anyways?” Steve asked, looking around the bar.

“Stark took me with him once. There were more people,” Bucky replied, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“Howard,” Steve repeated tonelessly. “So…You two…”

“I swear, Steve, if the word ‘fondue’ comes out of your mouth,” Bucky shook his head.

“You know about that?” Steve sighed.

“Everyone knows about that, Steve, Howard’s got a big mouth,” Bucky snorted. “I’m disappointed, I thought I taught you better than that.”

“So you two never—“

“Christ, Steve,” Bucky hissed. “No. I would never – no.” Steve quieted for a moment, trying to pretend that he didn’t feel relieved.

“It would be okay if you did, you know,” he said. “I don’t mind.“

“I don’t need your permission,” Bucky said in an undertone.

“I know you don’t, I’m just –“ Steve sighed and trailed off, shaking his head. “Just making a fool of myself,” he said.

He looked down at his shoes, switching his focus back to not stepping on Bucky’s feet. He could feel Bucky shaking underneath his hands, and looked up to see Bucky laughing.

“Haven’t seen you this flustered since Betty Andrews tried to get you to take her home that time,” he laughed.

“That was a different kind of flustered,” Steve muttered to himself.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” Bucky said, breaking away. Steve let Bucky’s hand slide through his fingers and took a step back.

Bucky paid his tab, Steve leaving a tip large enough to make up for the fact that he hadn’t bought a drink. After Bucky retrieved his coat, they walked up the stairs together, leaving the hazy smoke-filled room and warm chatter behind them.

The streets were pitch black now, lit only by the moon, when it actually emerged from the clouds. Steve’s eyes adjusted instantly, but it took Bucky a moment longer, stumbling through the dark alleyway and throwing a hand out. Steve rested his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to guide him.

“Hey,” he said, wondering if Bucky was more drunk than he’d thought. “You okay?”

“’Course,” Bucky swallowed. “Hey, I’ve, uh, got a place, just for tonight, I didn’t think anyone would miss me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Steve said quickly, before Bucky could walk away.

“You don’t have to.”

“Someone’s got to keep you out of trouble,” Steve smiled. Bucky didn’t smile back.

They were barely halfway there when it started raining. Steve took off his jacket and held it over their heads as they sprinted through the streets, Bucky leading them back to the place where he was staying.

There was a small group of British soldiers playing cards in the front room, but they ignored Bucky and Steve as they ran through the door. Steve tried not to drip all over the carpet, but he was soaked. He watched Bucky eye him up and down and sigh, almost as if in resignation.

“Come on,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Might as well come on up and dry off.”

Steve followed Bucky up the narrow stairs and into his room. It was small and narrow, with just a small bed, a desk, and a chair. He could hear the rain pattering on the ceiling, the stuffy air inside the room stagnant and thick.

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Steve said automatically as he shut the door behind him.

“Nah, don’t worry,” Bucky said dismissively, throwing his wet jacket over a chair. He began to shuffle through the bag on his bed, searching for dry clothes.

“No,” Steve said. “I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” He hung Bucky’s jacket up properly so it would dry as he spoke, but he held onto his own sopping jacket.

“It wasn’t going anywhere,” Bucky sighed, “if you hadn’t shown up back there, it’d just be me and a bottle right now. Guess I’m glad you showed up, after all.” He cleared his throat, turning away from Steve to quickly change into dry clothes. Steve looked down, firmly fixing his eyes on his shoes.

“I think I’m glad, too,” Steve said quietly. Bucky tossed Steve a towel over his shoulder.

“Sounds like the rain’s letting up,” he said, still facing the wall, making no sign that he’d heard Steve. “You should dry off. You could borrow an umbrella and head back to base. It’s not too late to take Agent Carter out dancing.”

Steve’s heart was pounding in his throat again, but he knew what he was going to say, now, the words rolling off his tongue like they’d been waiting a long time.

“Bucky,” he said. “I don’t want to dance with Agent Carter.”

“Well,” Bucky said, turning with his shirt half-buttoned, smirking forcefully. “You could always ask Private Lorraine.“

“Bucky,” Steve repeated his name hesitantly, “I don’t know how to say this.”

“You open your mouth and words come out, pal,” Bucky teased before he caught the serious look in Steve’s eye.

“I know that, just because you—“ Steve started, swallowing, “I know that it doesn’t mean you have to feel the same. But, Bucky, there’s no one else I’d like to dance with but you.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, his hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt collar as he stared at Steve, wide-eyed. “Come on, Steve, what are you saying?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Steve sighed.

“Preferably,” Bucky frowned.

“You’re more than a friend to me,” Steve said. “And I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with feeling like that, not for a minute. It kills me to think that you’ve been hiding yourself away when we’ve got the same secrets. You’re everything to me, Bucky, and I wish I hadn’t waited so long to tell you, even though you don’t feel the same way.” He took a step towards Bucky, who stood frozen a few feet away, hands fisted in his clean shirt. “Is that spelt out enough for you?”

Bucky opened his mouth, but bit back whatever retort he’d thought up to cross his arms and look at Steve sideways.

“That’s why you danced with me,” Bucky said, eyes shining in the dim light.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, figuring he couldn’t dig himself any deeper than this. “Didn’t think I’d ever have a chance to dance with you, even though I always wanted to.” He looked at Bucky, who was shaking his head, laughing at some private joke Steve wasn’t in on.

“Really?” Bucky said, biting back a smile as he laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Steve said. Bucky took a step closer.

“Trust me, I’m not laughing at you,” Bucky said, shaking his head as he stepped into Steve’s space and looked up at him. He smiled. “Whoever said I didn’t feel the same?”

“Bucky…” Steve whispered, searching his face like it was some kind of a joke.

“That’s my name,” Bucky smirked. “Don’t wear it out.” Placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders, he leaned up and kissed him.

Steve was ready this time. With a hand on Bucky’s waist to pull him closer, he kissed him slowly, barely believing it.

When they pulled apart, Bucky was laughing again, shaking his head from side to side.

“You’re a dolt,” he chuckled. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Bucky took Steve’s right hand and placed it on his shoulder, threading their fingers together and placing his hand on Steve’s waist. He pulled him close, leading them into a dance more intimate than their moment in the bar.

“We don’t have any music,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. Bucky laughed again. Steve was happy to hear the sound.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky said, “We can make our own music.”

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t think I can post this story without saying this: If anyone has ever made you feel insecure about your sexuality, they are wrong. There’s nothing wrong with being who you are. Anyone who tells you otherwise can go fuck off.


End file.
